Jreg Ancom X Commie
by fyghjksdfikl
Summary: Ancom has a little secret... will Commie love quem after he finds out, or will he kick quem out of the house?
1. Chapter 1

"Vhat brings you here?" asked the commie, not a big fan of words. He was eating a bagel on his couch, probably "appropriated" from another extremist. A few bottles of vodka were placed around his floor of the extremist household, but none of them were opened.

Ancom shivered, wrapping quis arms around quemself. A ratty hoodie, a pair of sweatpants that were obviously too big for quem, and a bandana around quis neck were the only things protecting the tiny anarchist from the cold. "Ancap turned the heating off for the basement, 'cause I didn't pay him enough."

"Kulak bastard. I will see him pay for it." Commie stood up. "You are cold, da? Let me get something for you." The statist stretched and shuffled into his room. He was wearing nothing but a t-shirt that was too tight and some Adidas track pants, his Siberian past protecting him from the cold. Ancom always tried to confront Commie about his obvious love of a certain brand, thus endorsing capitalism, but Commie always had something smart to say back to quem.

Ancom snuck over to the thermostat and turned it up around ten degrees, hoping the communist wouldn't notice. Sure enough, when the communist brought a big quilt, inviting Ancom to sit on the couch next to him, he said nothing.

"How are you okay with this temperature?" whined Ancom, snuggled in the blanket like a burrito but still shivering. "I swear, your room's colder than my basement."

"Take example of Russian bear. Russian bear has no fire, but it not complain. It sleep through winter." Commie took a swig from his vodka bottle. "And not your basement. The PEOPLE'S basement."

"Whatever," frowned Ancom, wrapping quemself in blankets further. "You got anything to eat? All I had in the fridge was pot brownies."


	2. Chapter 2

"Da." Commie's short response scared Ancom. Was que asking too much? Was que being a burden again?

But quis fears were vanquished when Commie returned a large bowl of soup and two spoons over. "Borscht good for warming. Too much for me to eat alone. I… I am used to cooking for more than one." A hint of loneliness tinged the communist's voice.

"I, well…" Ancom paused. "Sorry, Commie. I didn't know."

"What are sorry for?" Commie barked out a short laugh. "Not your fault."

_Still,_ Ancom thought, but didn't verbalize. Que didn't know Commie's background, other than that the man was from the depths of Siberia. But que'd never asked more than that, really. It was probably really rude, right?

But Ancom's curiosity was now piqued. Que wanted to know about Commie, now that they were living in the same three room and probably would stay that way until the cold snap ended. Que'd thought about rooming with Ancap instead, but he'd probably charge. No, that wasn't the reason. Ancom was already in so much debt that que couldn't care less about racking up more. The commie just felt more protective overall, with his bearlike build and strong muscles, which by the way Ancom could see through his too-tight shirt.

Ancom shook quis head, clearing it of these thoughts. Right now que was cold and hungry and needed to eat. Que took a spoonful of- borscht, was it?

"It is…" Ancom startled, almost having forgotten Commie was sitting next to him. "It is good, anarkitty?"

"Yeah!" que responded, feeling a bit better already. "I mean, yeah, it tastes good."


	3. Chapter 3

The communist smiled at quem. Ancom hesitantly smiled back. Que was still sorta scared of Commie, but the taller man definitely felt more protective of quem, _nicer, _even, than other extremists in the house.

They ate in relative silence, Ancom finishing the last spoonful. Que hadn't expected Commie to know how to cook this well, and he quietly voiced his sentiment.

"Thank you." Commie finished his bottle of vodka, quickly starting a new one.

"Why do you drink so much?" inquired Ancom.

"Vhy you do so much drugs?" retorted the communist. "Same thing. Personal information."

"Right…" mused Ancom. "But can you tell me?"

"Nyet."

"Promise, I won't tell anyone!"

Commie yawned. "Nyet."

"C'mon, it's easier to deal with loss if you talk about it. 'Least, that's what my therapist told me…" Ancom yawned too. It was getting kinda late.

"Fine. But if you tell anyone, I will make you look like a fascist's knees at your Pride parade."

Ancom shuddered. Que had no doubt that the communist was telling the truth.


	4. Chapter 4

"It all started with boy named Sasha."

Commie went on to tell the story of how he fell in love with an amazing man. They'd started dating, moved in together. They loved each other so much, and even though they were only in their late teens, they were planning lives with each other.

"Then, Nazis moved into our town."

The town quickly turned right-wing. The communist and Sasha tried to flee, as gay people were considered subhuman, and thus were legal to murder. But Sasha was killed in the escape.

"I had lost everything. Everything, Ancom. He was so sweet and small. Needed protection. Actually, much like you."

And thus, the man dropped his old identity and became Commie. An avowed state-communist, ready to take revenge on anyone who even slightly resembled a fascist such as the ones that had killed Sasha.

Ancom paused and thought about what to say. This was Commie's past, his true self. And the slightly older man began to cry.

"That's rough, dude."


	5. Chapter 5

Ancom woke up with a start, in a different room from usual. Que panicked until the events of the previous night came back to quem.

Commie had taken quem in with happiness, seemingly grateful to have someone to room with. And he was lonely, too, and he'd told quem the story of his life.

A heavy thing lay over Ancom's body, pressing him into something warm. Que squirmed around until que could see what was holding quem there.

A thick arm, just like a tree's branch, was cradling Ancom, wrapping quem into a small hug. Ancom's head was resting on the side of Commie's still-bare chest, and que was in a half-sitting position in Commie's lap.

To Ancom, it was the best feeling ever.


	6. Chapter 7

Que stayed like that for a while, trying not to fidget (que hadn't taken drugs in nearly 12 hours, and it was taking quite a toll on quem). But this feeling, this pure euphoria, was better than any LSD or meth or heroin or whatever that Ancap could supply quem with.

Eventually, Ancom felt shifting underneath quemself. Commie'd woken up.

"Oh, Anarkitty," he mumbled, smiling. The arm grew tighter, and Ancom wriggled in delight. It felt so good to be held again. The closest to human contact que'd gotten before this for a really long time was probably the other anarchist helping him do certain drugs for the first time.

"Commie," smiled Ancom, nuzzling against his bare chest.

"Anarkitty," repeated the communist happily.


	7. Chapter 8

Ancom positioned quemself in a way that Commie's hand was around the base of quis spine. It made quem feel tingly and hot all over.

No protests came from Commie, who actually started moving his hand up and down Ancom's back, stroking quem like a little kitten. Que leaned into the strokes, smiling in pure elation.

"You are so sweet," murmured the communist. "So much like Sasha."

"R-really?" Ancom asked.

"Da, Anarkitty."

Ancom snuggled against Commie, now completely pressed against his warm body. It felt like sitting in a comforter fresh from the dryer, so cozy, so snug. Commie began to move his hand up under the anarchist's hoodie, caressing quis back softly.

Too late, Ancom realized what he was about to find out.


	8. Chapter 9

Sure enough, the statist's hand froze as it touched a certain piece of fabric wrapped around Ancom's chest.

Ancom winced, curling up in anticipation. Remembering the blows that que had received by people who had found out the same thing.

"I'm sorry," whispered Ancom, tears already beginning to form at the corners of quis eyes. Que sprang up from the couch before the sleepy Commie could react, running to the door and fiddling with the lock-thing.

"Anarkitty! Wait!"

Ancom turned around to see Commie lumbering towards quem. He wrapped his arms around quem and wrapped quem in a bear hug.

"Do not leave."

Que was carried back to the couch, and made to sit down next to the communist. Que knew que wouldn't be able to run any faster than Commie could.

"I am the one who- who is sorry," faltered Commie. "I should have said earlier."

"Said what?"

"Anarkitty." He put his hands on both of Ancom's shoulders and looked straight into quis eyes. "I… I love you."


	9. Chapter 10

Ancom gasped, placing his hands on top of Commie's. "Really?! I mean, uh…"

Commie smiled. "I know what you mean, tovarish. You came here for a reason, da?"

"I. I did." Ancom paused and looked up. "Commie, I love you too."

They embraced there on the couch, Commie leaning down to kiss the tiny anarchist.

"I do not care what- what _things_ you have," he stated awkwardly. "You are _que_, da? And that means your parts do not matter."

Ancom's eyes widened. This had to be a dream, right? Someone who loved quem, who would support quem unconditionally? Way too good to be true.

But even if this was a dream, Ancom would savor every moment of it.

[Thanks for reading!]

*Will update this with certain.. scenes.., but that will be a bit later. Hope you enjoyed. :)


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